Last Chance Wife

by Janette Foreman

  The postmaster nodded, though his eyes didn’t shine or dull at the confession. “You all right?”

  “I’ve been better.” They had agreed to keep things simple, he and his beloved friend. He didn’t know the specifics of her life, and she didn’t know his. He had fallen in love with her everyday nothings and the secret longings of her heart. Had she been in his presence every day without his knowledge? “Please, Star. Tell me her real name.”

  “She didn’t tell you?”

  “She knew?”

  “Only at the end.” Star turned his head slightly, a knowing look shadowing his gaze. “You know who she is now, don’t you?”

  The gravity of his question cloaked over Ewan’s shoulders. Leaning on the counter, he ran a hand over his mouth. “I think I do.”

  Leaning his forearms on the counter, too, the postmaster worked the muscles in his mouth, causing his mustache to move. “What will you do now, knowing Miss Sattler was the one you wrote?”

  So, it was true. The woman who drove him mad, yet filled so many crevices in his heart, was the same woman whose letters he craved. Why hadn’t she told him the truth?

  An image of Winifred popped into his mind, that night when they’d cleaned up the store together. She’d had something to tell him, but after their kiss—and his rejection of her—the news was never shared. Just like that, he knew the substance of her news, and it cut him straight through the heart.

  He pushed off the counter and nodded a farewell. “Thank you, Star.”

  Dust coated his lungs as he wove through a jam of carts, but he didn’t care. His speed increased the closer he got to the office building, deepening his resolve. He knew what he had to do.

  “Cassandra?” Ewan called, pushing into the kitchen. “There’s been a change of plans. I’ll be going out of town for a while.”

  * * *

  Sitting across the tea table from Aunt Mildred felt both refreshing and saddening. On one hand, Winifred was home. Or...at least the familiar place where she had lived with her closest family for years. On the other hand, it meant she had come full circle, that none of her matrimonial pursuits had resulted in actual matrimony. Unfortunately, it also meant the start-up of Uncle’s tireless search for her final suitor.

  “Don’t look so glum, Winifred.” Aunt Mildred tipped her head to the side behind her teacup. “I can’t be that dull, can I?”

  A smile drew up the corners of Winifred’s mouth. “No, certainly not.” She lifted her teacup and sipped the amber liquid, now lukewarm since she had spent so long staring out the window at the shrubberies. “I don’t mean to be so distracted.”

  “Your uncle will be stopping by later with another gentleman for you.”

  Winifred couldn’t help but wrinkle her nose. But she swallowed her reply with a sip of tea. Her aunt and uncle looked after her without complaint. The least she could do was not complain, either.

  So much of her life had been about change. After her adoption, she had traveled with her aunt and uncle for years, from one gold town to another, until they finally settled here on the northern edge of Denver. She had spent her debutante season being introduced to scores of men, all orchestrated by Uncle Wilbur, of course. But she had been wise enough to see the flimsy flatteries the men offered for what they were—an attempt to win their way through her into her uncle’s business and fortune—and had declined any proposals she’d received. Call her ridiculous, but she’d wanted someone different when she married. Someone who sent bolts of lightning to her toes. So, with her local options running out, she wrote letter after letter seeking to become someone’s mail-order bride.

  But the only thing that had done was keep her from clamping down on anything solid and sinking in roots—because she could never be certain where life would take her, where she would find a home. It killed her that the one time things could have worked, he had turned her away before she could explain who she was.

  “Winnie?” Aunt Mildred’s voice cut in. “Dear me, you really must be distracted by something.”

  “I’m sorry.” She straightened to attention, her teacup rattling against the saucer she held. “What did you say to me?”

  Eyes narrowing, Aunt Mildred watched her. Her dark hair had grayed some in the past few years, but being quite a bit younger than Uncle, and having the means and leisure to take good care of herself, she hardly looked a day over forty. “Before I repeat myself, I have to know what’s bothering you. Is it Mr. Burke’s son again?”

  Just the sound of his name caused her eyes to sting. “Yes.” She had explained the entire mess to her aunt and uncle the moment she arrived home. Even her shocking revelation that he and Mr. Businessman were one and the same person. Uncle hadn’t said much, which wasn’t like him. Aunt seemingly didn’t know what to say, either, so she had wrung her hands. But the truth of the matter remained. No matter how much time passed, a piece of her would always cling to the owner of the Golden Star Mine.

  Winifred cleared her throat, then forced down more tea. “Now what were you saying, Aunt?”

  “I was saying you shouldn’t feel so disheartened about lacking a husband. It took me years to find your uncle. For years, I prayed for the right man to come along. Finally, he did.” Her pudgy hand reached out to clasp Winifred’s, her fingers soft as petals. “Truthfully, I don’t know if there’s a husband in your future. I hope there is, because your uncle’s love for me is a precious gift. But even if no man ever wins your hand, you still have so much to offer the world. And sometimes love waits for the heart to be ready. So prepare your heart, and follow after the Lord. No matter what happens next, you’ll never be alone.”

  Why did her eyes have to sting again? “Thank you,” she whispered, not trusting her voice to speak louder. Her heart urged her to say more, but nothing came to mind beyond her gratitude. For once in her life, she had been rendered speechless.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “It’s a surprise to see you in my office, Mr. Burke.” Wilbur Dawson leaned back in his large leather chair, hands folded across his lap, and peered over his desk. “What brings you here for this sudden meeting?”

  Breathing in, Ewan squared his chest. After over a week of travel, he’d only stopped at his father’s house long enough to bathe and shave before coming here, to Reed & Dawson Co., for one of the most important steps of his life. “Mr. Dawson, I want to ask for your niece’s hand in marriage.”

  Silence followed as the older man slowly allowed his chair to cease its rocking. “Is she aware of this intention of yours?”

  “No, sir, she is not.”

  “Then how can you be sure she’ll accept your offer?”

  Swallowing, Ewan willed himself to show strength. “I cannot be certain, sir. But I am hopeful.”

  “That’s mighty brave of you.” Mr. Dawson leaned forward, perching his elbows on his desk’s pristine, polished surface. Everything Ewan wanted was at the mercy of this powerful man. “What makes you think I’d be interested in bestowing my blessing on you? How are you better than all the others?”

  All the others? How many others were there? Ewan pushed aside the humbling thought. “I’m a trustworthy person in whom she can confide, sir. And we’re friends, first and foremost—a solid foundation on which to build a marriage. I keep her dreams grounded in reality. I’ve seen her heart, and I value it and the person she is.” He paused. “But, sir, even more than why I’m good for her is why she’s good for me.”

  “Oh?”

  “She softens my hard edges. She encourages me with the way she is steadfast in her principles and loyal to both those she knows and those she doesn’t. She expands my mind and makes me believe in the impossible. Everyone who meets her falls in love with her, and my case is no different. I thought I could keep from loving her, but I couldn’t help it.” Conviction built behind his words. “I know I don’t deserve her, Mr. Dawson, but I love Winifr
ed Sattler with everything I am, and I’m hoping you can find it in your heart to grant me permission to ask for her hand.”

  A half smile settled in the corner of Mr. Dawson’s mouth. What did that mean? Winifred’s uncle stood from his chair and moved to the window framed in thick burgundy curtains, overlooking his neighboring business district. “Mr. Burke, do you know why I offered you that deal in Deadwood?”

  “I assumed to mock me, sir.”

  That brought forth a chuckle from the man. “It wasn’t to mock you. I meant to test you, to see if you valued my niece above your mine. Your affections for one another were easy to see, and I wanted to make sure your intentions were genuine. As you probably know, once my Winifred sets her heart to something, precious little can tear her away from it.” He shot Ewan a look similar to the glare he’d sent him in Deadwood when he caught them together in the corridor. “I won’t let you break her heart.”

  “I won’t.” Never again. He’d acted foolishly once; he wouldn’t make that same mistake twice. “If Winifred gives me another chance, I’ll never let her go.”

  Again, the older man fell quiet. His jaw muscles moved as if he considered Ewan’s words with all seriousness. Crossing his arms, he turned his face back to the window. “Tell me, before we were interrupted by Winnie, what choice would you have made?”

  The idea of an ultimatum still made Ewan’s blood boil. “I planned on refusing the offer altogether, sir. I won’t be intimidated into picking between two things I value so much.” What kind of a man made someone choose between the woman he loved and a ministry anyway?

  “Smart man,” Mr. Dawson replied, which caught Ewan off guard. He’d half expected him to take offense at Ewan’s answer. “I commend you for your confidence. And it’s easy to see how much you care for Winifred.”

  Mr. Dawson seemed to contemplate the issue further, and Ewan held his breath. Speaking up seemed like the wrong thing to do. A silent prayer would be wiser.

  “And is the mine holding up?”

  “It is, very well. My employees are really showing investment in the place, pitching in where they can to get us back on track after the sabotage debacle.” Better to lay everything bare. Ewan would disclose anything if it meant painting a stronger picture for Winifred’s uncle. “We’re a modest company, but we’re making progress.”

  “Good for you. You have tenacity. I like that.” He turned and headed back to his desk. “So, now that you have my blessing to marry my niece, are you also wanting my investment in the mine?”

  Blessing? Ewan had to fortify his knees to keep them from giving way. “Mr. Dawson, if you’re indeed offering your blessing, then that is more than enough for me.”

  The older man’s eyes sparkled. “Then the money is yours, also.”

  “Sir?”

  “I mean it. I want to reward your efforts to live as God would want you to. Besides, your children will need a legacy left behind, will they not?”

  Ewan’s grin spread. Stepping closer, he extended his eager hand. “Thank you, Mr. Dawson. Thank you so much.”

  Mr. Dawson accepted the handshake with a hardy grip that spoke of camaraderie. “So, how will you ask her? I assume an organized man like yourself already has a plan.”

  At that, Ewan couldn’t contain a chuckle. “Yes, sir, I actually do. And I think she’ll like it very much.”

  * * *

  The firm shut of the front door echoed through the large house, followed by Uncle’s footfalls down the hallway. “Winnie?”

  Sitting with Aunt in the parlor, Winifred stifled a sigh. She cast her aunt a look as she rested her hands on her needlework. When her uncle arrived home from work calling her name, it had come to mean he’d brought a suitor. Some overeager businessman from his office building, no doubt. Though she couldn’t yet hear a second set of footsteps accompanying him.

  Yesterday had been the first day he hadn’t brought someone home in the ten days she’d been back. Even on Sunday, a church friend had escorted her home. But yesterday, Uncle had fumbled with some excuse about how the one he’d planned to bring couldn’t make it...but something in his voice, and in the sparkle of his eyes, told her he had something else up his sleeve—that today’s suitor would really surprise. She wasn’t sure if she should be excited or nervous.

  Regardless, she’d promised herself to let Uncle help her choose a husband. After the way things ended with Ewan, she couldn’t bear searching on her own again. She told herself that all she needed was time for her heart to heal, but if she were honest, she knew there was no recovering from losing someone like Ewan Burke.

  But God knew best. Even if Winifred had no idea what the future held, He did. And that would be enough.

  Bracing her hands against her knees, she waited for them to enter.

  When Uncle stepped into the parlor, he glanced around until he located her on the sofa. “Ah, there you are.” Weaving around the other tufted furniture, he carried today’s newspaper and some office paperwork, as usual...but no one followed him. Where was the promised gentleman?

  Winifred sent the silent question to Aunt Mildred, but the woman only shrugged.

  “I wondered if I might find you two here.” He stooped to kiss Aunt on the cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Wilbur, honey.” Aunt Mildred turned her face up toward his, brows pinched above her amused smile. “Where is the caller?”

  He paused. “The caller?”

  “Yes.” She drew the word out for her husband. “You said you were bringing home a gentleman caller tonight for Winnie.”

  Understanding dawned on his face. “Close,” he corrected. “I said I would bring her a prospect, which is a little different than a caller—this time.”

  Aunt Mildred shifted her glance to Winifred. “I don’t follow.”

  “I don’t, either.” Winifred turned her attention to her uncle. “Of course, if you didn’t bring one, you won’t hear me complain.”

  Uncle returned her teasing smirk. “I think you will like this prospect. Better than my previous choices.” He took the newspaper from beneath his arm and handed it to Winifred.

  Her brow furrowed as she looked from the paper to her uncle, realization of what he implied sinking into her. “The prospect isn’t a physical caller, is he?”

  A hint of sympathy flickered in his eyes, no doubt remembering all the times she’d suffered through dinner parties, the numerous hours she’d spent combing newspapers for ads. He took a seat beside her on the sofa. “I’ve come to realize you will never be truly happy with a husband I choose for you.”

  Winifred tried to protest, but he held up his hand to stop her.

  “You would try, for our sake. Your warm heart wouldn’t allow anything less. But since we’ve been home, I’ve watched you wander this house like a ship lost at sea, and I understand now that I can’t bring myself to force you into a certain life. Please know, all I wanted was your comfort and security—but I see now that those guarantees aren’t what will make you happy.” When Uncle smiled, small tears glistened in his eyes. “You have become a spirited, brave woman. Your parents would have been proud.”

  “Oh, Uncle.” Winifred lowered the newspaper to her lap, her throat thickening at his touching words. To make her parents proud would be the pinnacle of her life’s achievements. She ran a thumb beneath her lashes and drew a breath. “I love you both.”

  “We love you, too. And you deserve another chance to find a husband of your choosing.” Uncle patted Aunt’s shoulder as if to signal it was time for them to go. “Now, browse that paper. You never know what you might find.” He must have sensed her hesitation because he added, “I think you’ll especially be interested in page six.”

  Shooting her a fatherly wink, Uncle took his wife’s arm and together they strolled from the parlor. Winifred watched the open door until she couldn’t hear their footsteps anymore. As di
fferent as she was from her aunt and uncle, they were a blessing she had often taken for granted. She promised herself to appreciate them more.

  Setting aside her needlework, Winifred opened the newspaper and smoothed the paper down. Catching that familiar fresh-ink scent, she fought a hint of nerves. What if her search continued to come up empty? How would she know when to stop looking?

  Maybe Aunt Mildred had been right. Sometimes love waits until the heart is ready. And after years of searching, man after man, she knew now her heart ultimately belonged to Someone far greater than any suitor she could find here on earth. And it was up to Him to decide if He would allow it to be loved by another.

  No matter what happened, she would never be alone.

  She flipped to page six and scanned the advertisements. A sale on shoes, someone with an old shed in need of a new roof...

  “Wanted: A Thoroughly Disgruntled Wife.”

  Winifred inhaled sharply, her hand covering her mouth. Her eyes darted to the parlor doorway. It remained empty. Then back to the ad.

  Wanted: A Thoroughly Disgruntled Wife. Exceptionally beautiful, given to rearranging merchandise and offering greetings in precarious places. Needn’t be practical nor serious. A joy for life a must. A forgiving heart for a hardheaded businessman much desired.

  For a moment, all she could do was stare at the advertisement, mouth hanging open like a codfish. Then, heartbeat dancing a million steps per minute, Winifred tossed the paper aside and hastened from the couch. “Uncle!”

  * * *

  “Ewan, I’m genuinely excited for you. I can’t wait to see where it goes.”

  Over his cup of coffee, Ewan stared at his twin brother, whose smile couldn’t stretch any farther. It made Ewan’s grow, too. “I’m glad you think so. Because I’ll need my brother by my side, should she say yes.”

  “Well, I was referring to your new investor, but I suppose winning a woman’s heart in the process is good, too.”